A Conman for Christmas
by Lady Lightwood
Summary: After getting an anonymous tip on Neal Caffrey's whereabouts, Peter decides to follow it up on Christmas Eve. Little does he know that the tip includes a drunk and sick Neal without Kate. Peter had never thought he'd be taking care of a feverish Neal Caffrey on Christmas Eve. No slash.


**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**White Collar**_**.**

**Note: This is set in the time period when Peter is chasing Neal. No slash, just a father/son sort of relationship.**

* * *

"Hey Peter."

"Neal." Peter doesn't even need to turn around to know who that voice belongs to. He's currently standing in the middle of an almost empty loft, filled only with threadbare furniture and a conman. He had received a surprisingly accurate and anonymous tip on Neal Caffrey's whereabouts only a few hours ago. And now, after following that tip, he was standing in front of a barefoot Caffrey who was calmly seated on a threadbare couch with an empty glass bottle dangling from his slim fingers.

"So you got the card?" Neal's lips lifted in an attempt at a charming smile.

"Yeah, El loved the Christmas tree. Nice drawing" Neal smiled sadly; he knew the last part of Peter's response had been sarcastic.

"Always glad to do a favor for a frien- the agent chasing me."

Peter noticed that Neal caught himself when he had been about to say "friend". _So that was interesting, Neal Caffrey counted him as a friend_, he thought to himself. Looking around, he wondered what happened to the normally scintillating conman and his girlfriend.

"Where's Kate?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"She went home to her family. It's Christmas, Peter" Neal shrugs and says that as though it's the most common thing in the world.

"And you have no family?" Peter pried, hoping to get some sort of a slightly informative answer.

Neal shook his head, instead of laughing it off as Peter had expected.

"Where's El?" Neal looked up.

"She went home to her parents. I'm joining her later."

"You're not here to arrest me?" Neal asked, sounding almost hopeful. Peter glared at him, wondering at the sudden change that had come over in the conman. In any other circumstance, he was sure that Neal would have run by now.

"It's Christmas Eve. Consider it your Christmas gift. Why'd you send me the card?" now Peter is the one who has a slightly condescending tone to his voice, as though the fact that its Christmas was very apparent.

Neal shrugged, and picked at a dangling thread on the couch. For once the conman's slick mask seemed to slip away and suddenly Neal looked as young as he really was. And suddenly Peter felt sorry for the kid, not that he would ever admit to that. For the first time he noticed what had been in the empty bottle.

"Neal…are you _drunk_?" Peter asked, suspicions already forming in a dark cloud.

"No." Neal's answer was so fake that Peter rolled his eyes; he would've thought the conman would be a good liar even when he was drunk.

"You are. Go to bed."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are" Peter gritted his teeth, arguing with a drunken conman was not what he had been planning on doing on Christmas, and besides, he actually was looking forward to going to El's parents'.

"No, I'm not. Why the hell are you here?" Neal snapped, suddenly angry. He started to advance towards Peter, who calmly stood where he was until Neal was close enough. Then he quickly grabbed one of Neal's arms, causing the conman to yelp, and twisted it up behind his back.

Neal's lower lip started to wobble and Peter suppressed a groan. If he had known that Neal was not a happy drunk, he really wouldn't currently be here. Neal fell forward into Peter's arms, suddenly feeling small as tears slipped unchecked from his blue eyes and soaked into Peter's collar. Peter sighed; he knew he couldn't abandon the kid now. He led Neal into the bathroom, seating him on the toilet and grabbing a towel, roughly swiping at Neal's cheeks, gentling his touch when Neal started to shudder and sob.

"Okay Neal…take a deep breath" Peter coached, but Neal was too far gone to even try calming down.

"P-P-P't'r-r-r" Peter's name was drawn out in a long sob as Neal's eyes watered with fresh tears and he kept his face buried in Peter's shirt.

"It's okay Neal" Peter had never thought he'd be crouched on a bathroom floor with a conman in his arms.

Neal gagged, the sobs starting to turn his stomach. The alcohol he had already consumed was no help either. Peter turned him around to face the toilet bowl and settled for patting Neal awkwardly on the back. This seemed to calm Neal for whatever reason, and suddenly Peter was feeling like a father, comforting his son. The agent frowned, firmly reprimanding himself for thinking such thoughts. Neal retched, whatever had been in his system, definitely now out.

Peter fished in his pocket for his phone and managed to dial El's number, all the while keeping his hand on Neal's back. As he waited for his wife to pick up, Peter felt Neal's muscles tense and relax with each gasp and retch.

"El? Hi hon, it's me" Peter spoke softly, not caring if Neal could hear or not.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be a bit late. No, no, no don't bother holding dinner for me. Don't worry I'll be there in time for coffee and cookies." Peter hung up and looked down at Neal. The miserable conman seemed to be done puking his guts out and was now just huddled on the bathroom floor. Peter stood up suppressing a groan as his knees popped. He opened the cabinet above the sink, rummaging around, praying that there was a bottle of mouthwash in there. Finally finding a bottle that loosely resembled the store-brand El bought for him, Peter poured out a bottle-cap full and handed to Neal who shakily accepted.

"Swish and spit" Peter instructed Neal, propping the younger man against the sink and feeling again, rather ridiculously, like a father.

"S-s-sorry" Neal stuttered, as the mouthwash spattered over the faucet and counter.

"Let's get you to bed" Peter placed a gentle hand on Neal's back, feeling the conman tense and then relax, almost curling into Peter's touch.

He allowed the agent to lead him to the couch, where Peter helped to lie him down. Neal immediately huddled into the thin cushions, burying his head down.

"Where are the blankets?" Peter asked.

Neal gestured vaguely in the direction of the closet and closed his eyes as he feebly coughed.

Peter opened the closet, sighing as he saw the one worn-out blanket folded into a neat pile on the floor of the closet. It was starting to appear that Neal and Kate did not exactly live an indulged life.

"Is this it?" Peter asked as he spread the blanket over Neal's trembling body, wincing as he saw holes in the blanket.

Neal nodded, speaking obviously too much for him.

_**An hour later…**_

Peter paced worriedly, it was already 9 pm and El had already called twice, worriedly questioning when and of he was coming over. However, Neal was getting much worse, at times deliriously tossing and turning, crying out for Kate.

Peter had just settled into a chair with a well-worn book featuring paintings of the 20th century when he was interrupted by Neal's cry.

"PETER!" Neal bolted upright, tears streaming down his face.

"Shhh…Neal, it's alright" Peter soothed, pushing back Neal's dark and sweaty hair.

Neal immediately wrapped burning limbs around Peter, hiding his face in Peter's neck. Peter instinctively tensed at the sudden contact, but then started to awkwardly pat Neal's back, not at all sure if this would help. Apparently it did, because Neal relaxed, his death grip loosening slightly and his breathing evening out.

Once he was sure Neal was almost asleep, Peter laid Neal back against the sofa, covering him with the blanket. He hesitated and then shrugged off his coat, tucking it around Neal's body.

He turned, starting to stand up when Neal caught his hand, sleepily murmuring "don't go".

Peter was about to reply, when he realized Neal's eyes were shut and he was fast asleep.

* * *

In the past hour and a half Neal's fever had dropped considerably and Peter was looking at his watch every five minutes, wondering when it was considered too late for him to get to El.

"Neal?" receiving no answer, Peter worriedly shook Neal's shoulder, eliciting a sleepy moan. Peter pressed his hand one last time to Neal's cool forehead, satisfied that Neal's temperature was at a safe level.

Taking one last look at the blissfully sleeping conman, Peter hastily scribbled a note on a scrap of canvas and left, quietly closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Hey hon" Peter murmured, as he slid into the bed. He had gotten to El's parents' house at a reasonable time, let himself in with a spare key and gotten into bed in record time.

"Mmm…what was it?" El asked sleepily, rolling over to face her husband.

"Just a…Christmas present" Peter replied, smiling as El curled up against him.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review! **


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